


What (Not) to Tell Your Friends

by impalagirl, wilddragonflying



Series: Roleplays [38]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Established Relationship, F/M, M/M, Past Jennifer Blake/Derek Hale, Past Kate Argent/Derek Hale, Sex-repulsed!Derek, asexual!Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 14:27:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6757807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impalagirl/pseuds/impalagirl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilddragonflying/pseuds/wilddragonflying
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Speaking of Derek," Erica says, leaning forward interestedly. "What about him? You've been together, what, five years now?"</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>"Nearly seven."</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>"Shit, really? Well, he's obviously the longest relationship you've ever had - was it a shock when your desperate, wanton lust for each other started to die down?"</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Stiles laughs. "Erica, Derek and I don't have sex."</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>"Yeah, pull the other one."</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>"We don't!"</i>
</p>
<p><i>Stiles has never seen so many jaws drop at once. "</i>What?<i>"</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	What (Not) to Tell Your Friends

**Author's Note:**

> Derek's experience with sexual repulsion is based upon my(wild's) own experience. I know that not all people experience sexual repulsion or asexuality in the same way.
> 
> Also. The Warnings are for Derek's past(non-explicit) experiences with Jennifer and Kate; these are discussed close to the end of the fic.

This is the life, Stiles thinks to himself as he sits in his own living room, surrounded by all his friends. The only thing missing is Derek, but he's just loading the dishwasher and then he'll be back to resume his place at Stiles' side. They've been together for six years now and Stiles honestly couldn't be happier; tonight's pizza-and-movie bash is actually to celebrate the anniversary of the day Derek finally agreed to take Stiles on a date. Their actual anniversary, the night of their first kiss, isn't for a few months yet, and they always celebrate that alone, but this one also marks the day that the bet their friends had going for a solid two years prior was finally cashed in - by Isaac, of all people. None of their friends ever let them forget it.

Stiles yawns, stretching, and peers over the back of the couch to catch a glimpse of Derek as he does so. A pointed clearing of a throat draws his attention guiltily back to the group.

"Quit perving on Derek, he'll be back when he's back," Isaac says, smirking.

Stiles would protest, but he knows better; he allows himself to get drawn into their conversation instead. "Whatever. It's better than listening to you guys rambling on about the wedding." Erica proposed to Boyd a few months ago because Boyd was taking too long, and it's all they've been talking about since.

But Erica just laughs. "We haven't even mentioned the wedding, actually," she says. "We're talking about sex."

Stiles screws up his nose. "Sex?"

"Yeah," Kira says, and the amount of enthusiasm she packs into that single word is a testament to the amount of wine she's had this evening. "Y'know, about the difference between the amount of sex you have when you first get together and the amount you have by the time you break up."

"I mean, obviously the excitement wears off after a while and things die down over a longer relationship," Erica says. "But there's definitely a difference between 'we've been together for years' sex and 'it'll be over in three months' sex. For the record, though, a ring on the right finger really does wonders for the libido." This last is said with a wink and a meaningful nudge to Boyd's side, and the group laughs.

"What do you think, Stiles?" Scott asks pleasantly.

Stiles tries to think. "I don't know," he says slowly. "Me and Heather never had much sex to begin with - and me and Danny, well, we were fucking like bunnies right through to the end. That relationship was definitely more about the physical side than anything else. And the sex was _great_. We only broke up because, well."

"Because you were too obsessed with Derek," Isaac says, with an uncharacteristic giggle. He's a little drunk, too. In fact, now that Stiles thinks about it, they all are.

"Well, yeah," Stiles concedes.

"Speaking of Derek," Erica says, leaning forward interestedly. "What about him? You've been together, what, five years now?"

"Nearly seven."

"Shit, really? Well, he's obviously the longest relationship you've ever had - was it a shock when your desperate, wanton lust for each other started to die down?"

Stiles laughs. "Erica, Derek and I don't have sex."

"Yeah, pull the other one."

"We don't!"

Stiles has never seen so many jaws drop at once. " _What?_ "

"There's no way," Kira says, pointing emphatically at Stiles, "that you do not regularly climb him like a monkey. Tree. Thing." The wine is still clearly exerting its influence over her; her cheeks are flushed and her eyes bright. 

Stiles shakes his head. "There's every way," he says, "if Derek doesn't want to." He laughs then, uncomfortable. "Can you all stop looking at me like that?"

The looks dial down in intensity, but don't totally diminish. "But," Scott says, clearly confused. "You were always going on about how hot he was. You still do." 

"That just means I've got eyes," Stiles says. "It's not a big deal. Honestly."

The rest of them are clearly not convinced, but they drop the topic. 

Unfortunately, the damage has already been done; sound travels well down the hallway to the kitchen, and Derek has to make himself carefully put the last knife in the dishwasher. He'd thought all their friends knew he was asexual; Stiles certainly hadn't seemed to care when Derek told him, and he'd been nothing but supportive and understanding when Derek had explained he was fine with kissing and cuddling - he _loved_ holding Stiles close, and being held - but anything heavier than that just didn't do it for him. More than that, even thinking about sex is the best turn-off he's ever found; some digging online had helped him find a term for it: sex-repulsed.

Stiles had still sounded like he didn’t care about anything other than the fact that their friends were being weird about the revelation that they've never, in almost seven years, had sex, but what if? It almost makes Derek sick to his stomach to think that, but _what if?_

It's pretty clear that the others aren't going to say anything more, but Stiles wants to remove himself from the situation anyway, so he gets up and goes in search of Derek. As soon as he's out of the room, he hears the conversation start up again in earnest.

"Hey," he says softly when he reaches the kitchen. Derek has his back to him, and he looks tense. "Are you okay?"

Derek blows out a breath before he answers, "I thought they knew. That I'm asexual, I mean." 

Stiles winces; he should have known that Derek heard everything. "It doesn't matter," he says, coming up behind Derek to run a comforting hand up his arm. "If it comes up again then I'll try to explain it to them. But I don't care what they think, and neither should you. It's nothing to do with them."

Derek sighs. "I know," he says quietly. "It's just - I wish people got that being asexual is totally okay, and that you can have a relationship without sex. I wish it wasn't such a surprise." 

Stiles squeezes Derek's shoulder, and then wraps both arms around him from behind. "It's not that they don't accept you," he offers. "For them, a relationship without sex _is_ impossible, because they're sexual people. They just don't understand."

"They don't have to totally understand to accept it," Derek says, irritated, then deflates. "Sorry. Look, I'm sure it'll be over by the time their hangovers start; it's not that big of a deal. I'm used to it." 

Stiles sighs. He wants to push the issue further, but he knows he shouldn't while the others are still here. "I love you," he offers instead.

Those words have never failed to bring a smile to Derek's face, and they don't fail this time. "I love you, too." 

* * *

Things go back to normal pretty quickly after that. If their friends remember anything of the conversation that night, they don't bring it up, and none of them treat Derek any differently so Stiles isn't going to upset the balance by asking them about it. It takes a little while longer for Derek to settle again, but it's nothing some cuddles and soft reassurances can't fix. Of course, the other shoe drops eventually.

Just over a week after their first-date-iversary, Erica corners Stiles in his classroom at the school. She has the audacity to sit on the desk directly in front of his own and chatter aimlessly at him about the UST between some students in her class, all the while shooting him meaningful looks that he pretends he doesn't notice. But he can't pretend forever.

"Okay," he sighs, dropping his pen and looking up from his marking at last. "What do you want, Erica?"

"Just to talk," Erica says brightly. "Maybe ask a question or two." 

"So ask 'em," Stiles says. "I'm busy."

Erica pouts, but only for a moment. "Fine. Do you and Derek _really_ not have sex? Ever?" 

"Nope," Stiles says. "Not ever."

"But... Why? I mean, you love sex, and Derek's had relationships before, and sex, too, I'm sure, so why don't you two have sex with each other?"

"Because he doesn't like it," Stiles says. "Hates it, even."

"Hates it?" Erica echoes, surprised. "How can he hate sex?" 

"It grosses him out," Stiles says. "I've told you he's ace, right?"

"Yeah," Erica asks, still confused.

"Well, that's reason enough," Stiles says, frowning. "If he doesn't find me attractive like that, why would we have sex? I'm not gonna force him to do something he doesn't want to do."

Erica bites back her first response, only shrugging and humming. "I guess that makes sense," she allows, although her mind is running a mile a minute. Derek doesn't find Stiles attractive?

* * *

Naturally, as soon as Erica gets home that night, she tells _everyone_ \- which is why, the very next day, Scott turns up at the local library a few minutes before Derek's lunchbreak and offers to take him for lunch.

"So," Scott begins once they're sitting opposite each other in the café across the street. "Seven years, huh? That's a really long time." He laughs. "Any sign of that, uh, seven-year itch?"

Derek gives Scott an odd look. "Seven year itch?" 

"Oh, y'know." This time Scott's laugh is a little uncomfortable. "Everyone says that by the time you hit the seven year mark, you're starting to get a little bored of each other."

"No, I don't," Derek says, confused. "I'm not sure where you're going with this." 

Scott sighs. "Okay, I suck at this subterfuge stuff, so I'm just gonna say it," he says. "We're... concerned."

"Why?"

"Erica talked to Stiles yesterday. He said you don't find him attractive."

"Because I don't," Derek says, still confused. "Not sexually, anyway. Stiles has known that for years." 

"For _years?_ " Scott asks, horrified. "Jesus, Derek. I had no idea things were so bad."

"Things aren't bad!" Derek snaps. "Christ, Stiles and I are _fine_ and our relationship is fine without sex! Why the hell are you so obsessed with this all of a sudden?" 

"Because we're worried about Stiles," Scott says. " _And_ you. It's been seven years, Derek! How do you think it makes Stiles feel, knowing you don't think he's sexy? Never being close to you like that? I don't want to think about Stiles having sex, trust me, but he used to love it. He's the most sexual person I know. And I know he loves you, I know he's willing to give that up for you, but that has to be putting a strain on him."

Derek lets his head drop to the table, banging it a couple of times for good measure before he lifts it again. "Stiles knew exactly what he was getting into, Scott. I told him before we even started dating that I had absolutely zero interest in sex, and he said that was fine. We kiss, we cuddle, we're totally in love - hell, we give you and Kira a run for your money in sappiness sometimes. We are fine without sex, and if Stiles suddenly became not-fine with it, I would be the first one he would tell." 

"Like I said, he loves you," Scott says, shrugging. "He doesn't want to lose you. Maybe he was okay with it at the start, but if he's not okay with it now, maybe he thinks telling you about it isn't worth the risk. I'm not saying he's _miserable_ , but not feeling wanted by your partner, it takes its toll, y'know?

Derek shoves himself away from the table, standing up so fast he almost knocks the chair over. "Enough," he growls. "In case you've forgotten, I'm the one who's lived with Stiles for the past five years - not to mention been in a relationship with him. There's nothing wrong with our relationship, so I'll thank you, Erica, and every other nosy friend of ours to kindly _fuck off._ " And before Scott can respond, Derek's tossing down enough money to pay for his food and leave a generous tip before stalking out of the café. 

* * *

Derek's still in a mood when Stiles gets home from work that night, evidenced by the loud bangs and crashes coming from the kitchen. Stiles approaches cautiously and is relieved to see that Derek isn't trashing the place; he's just being a little heavy-handed while he makes dinner. "Bad day at the office, honey?"

Derek snorts. "Office was fine; lunch with Scott, not so much." He shuts the cabinet door harder than necessary, winces, and then forces himself to just stop. "Sorry. Scott said some... things." 

Stiles frowns. "What kind of things?"

Derek blows out a breath. "He's concerned about our relationship. He's worried it might be... unhealthy." 

"Unhealthy? How?"

"Because we're not having sex," Derek says, resigned, as he turns to face Stiles, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest defensively. "He's worried it's a strain on you." 

Stiles actually laughs. "Yeah, okay," he says. "Because I'm still a randy teenager who thinks that blue balls could kill me. I have a hand, Derek - I have two, in fact. I'm perfectly satisfied, trust me."

That's not exactly what Derek was hoping to hear, but he supposes it's reassuring enough. "I know, it's just - it bothers me that they hear _once_ that we don't have sex, and suddenly they think our relationship is going to crumble at any moment.

"I'll tell them to back off," Stiles says. "They've got no right to make you feel like this." He sighs and approaches Derek slowly. "I'm happy. Are you happy?"

"At the moment? Not particularly. But with you, and our relationship? I am very happy," Derek says, stepping forward to take Stiles into his arms. "I love you." 

"I love you too," Stiles murmurs, and pulls Derek into a kiss.

* * *

A week later, Erica finally descends upon Derek. "So," she says, with a leery smile. "I've been talking to Boyd, and we've come to the conclusion that you need to spice up your sex life."

Derek groans. "Not you, too," he grumbles. "Seriously, butt out, Erica." 

"Derek, I'm only expressing concern for the future of your relationship," Erica says. "You and Stiles are great together, we don't want something as easy as sex to screw with that."

Derek glares at Erica. "We've got nearly seven years without sex - why the hell would we suddenly need it now?" 

"Derek, that's seven years of Stiles feeling unattractive," Erica says. "Of course it's important."

"Stiles knows he's attractive," Derek counters. "Just because I don't want to have sex with him doesn't mean he doesn't know he's attractive." 

"But you're the person he sees the most, the person he loves the most," Erica says. "Maybe he had loads of confidence when you got together, but could you blame him if that was undermined by _seven years_ of his partner finding him sexually repulsive?"

Derek grits his teeth, throttling back that annoying little voice that's been whispering almost Erica's exact words for years. "It's not that I find _him_ sexually repulsive; sex _period_ is repulsive to me. And it's _still_ none of your business." 

"Maybe not," Erica says, "and if you can honestly, a hundred percent tell me that Stiles is honestly, a hundred percent happy, then I'll drop it right now."

Derek wants to say yes, wants it more than anything, but in the end - he can't. He _can't,_ because he doesn't know for sure that Stiles is one hundred percent happy. 

Derek's face says it all, and Erica gives him a sad smile. "Okay," she says. "Well, me and Boyd had a bit of a dry spell about a year ago, and we dedicated a _whole_ weekend to reigniting the flame. Sexy outfits, dildos, vibrators, _whips_ \- you wouldn't think that Boyd's the kind of man who likes to be whipped but he is, and he's an absolute _slut_ for--"

"Shut up, shut _up,_ " Derek growls, now decidedly green around the gills as his hands go white-knuckled on the edge of the desk. "What part of 'sex repulsed’ don't you understand?" 

Erica has the grace to look sheepish. "Okay, so maybe that kind of stuff isn't helpful," she concedes. "But nice, vanilla sex - you could handle that, couldn't you? I mean, you've had sex before, right?"

"Not sex I enjoyed," Derek grits out. " _All_ sex, Erica. I don't. Enjoy. Sex, I don't want to think about it, I don't - _anything._ Stiles has known that from the start. He knew everything going in." 

"Well, are you gonna puke on him? Is that gonna happen?"

"I'm going to puke on _you_ if we don't drop this line of conversation," Derek snarls, and with the way his stomach is rolling, it's a promise and not a threat. 

Erica shrugs. "I'm just saying," she says, "I don't like receiving anal, but Boyd likes giving it, so every now and then - on his birthday or whatever - I suck it up."

Derek barely manages to hold onto his lunch. "Are you finished?" 

"Yes," Erica huffs, frustrated. "Just _think_ about it, okay?"

"Fine," Derek spits. "Now please, either talk about something else, or get the hell out of my library." He'd apologize for being short with Erica later; right now he had other things to worry about. 

"I'm going," Erica says, shaking her head. "Talk to Stiles!"

* * *

Derek really does mean to talk to Stiles, it's just - they're watching a movie that night after dinner, and right as Derek's gearing himself up to broach the subject, a heated argument between the two main characters - and obvious love interests - turns into a furious kissing match. Derek really hopes that this doesn't go where he think it's going. "Yeesh. That's a little overdone, don't you think?"

"Oh, I don't know," Stiles says, an almost wistful note in his voice, "a lot of my best times with Danny started that way." He glances at Derek as the first shirt comes off on screen, followed by the jangle of a belt buckle. "We can turn over if it's making you uncomfortable."

Any discomfort caused by the movie is forgotten in the wake of Stiles's comment; even someone as occasionally socially inept as Derek can hear the wistfulness, and something twists in his gut. "No," he says, getting to his feet. "It's fine; I need to go to the bathroom, anyway."

Stiles watches Derek go, and when he reaches the doorway he says, "Hey. Are you okay?"

Derek pauses, not quite looking back at Stiles as he says, "Yeah, I'm fine." 

Stiles frowns. "Did I say something? Is it the sex?"

Derek sighs. "It's nothing you did," he says, and it's mostly the truth. "It's just been a long day." 

"Okay," Stiles says, though he doesn't sound convinced. "I love you."

Derek can't help but smile, though it's small. "I love you, too." 

* * *

Stiles lets it lie, because for all that he knows there's something going on with Derek, he's sure that Derek will tell him when he's good and ready. But Derek doesn't tell him, and there's nothing Stiles can do except watch as he pulls further and further away.

He tries, of course. Asks as subtly as he can how things are at work, if there's anything on his mind, if there's anything Stiles can do to brighten up his day or ease the strain he's clearly feeling - but it doesn't get him anywhere. The one time he asks outright what the hell is going on, Derek clams up even further and actually shuts the bathroom door in his face, claiming only once the lock has snicked into place that he needs to shower.

Stiles can't remember the last time they locked any of the doors in their house.

* * *

Erica's visit isn't the last Derek hears about the 'not sleeping with Stiles' thing - and maybe the worst part about everything is that everyone is telling Derek that he needs to put aside his own comfort and peace of mind to satisfy Stiles; like how Derek feels doesn't matter at all.

Derek's been made to feel like that twice before already, and he really isn't enjoying his third time.

After two weeks of harassment, though, Derek finally caves - though it's only in the shower while Stiles is at work. He wraps a hand around his dick for this first time in nearly two decades, carefully not thinking about anything at first, just letting the stimulation work him up to half-hard - but the moment he thinks about Stiles naked, his semi deflates faster than a popped balloon. Derek grits his teeth, screwing his eyes shut, and tries, _really_ tries to work himself back up, to jerk off thinking about his boyfriend, but he can't do it, and eventually his stomach is rolling too much for Derek to want to keep trying.

He has the day off, but Derek for once doesn't spend it at home; he travels out to the Preserve and spends most of the day running, trying to take his mind off of everything. He knows that pulling away from Stiles isn't the right course of action, but what can he do? Reaffirm yet again that he's not really going to be enough, not truly? Derek knew from the start that Stiles loved sex, and now he's almost positive that Stiles has to be missing it - he's never cheated on Derek, and never would, but what if one day he breaks, the way Erica, Scott, Isaac, and hell, even _Lydia_ , who's always been their biggest supporter, are starting to hint?

Derek doesn't think he could take that; Stiles is his everything, and Derek doesn't want to think about who he could become if yet another person leaves him because he can't - and wouldn't, even if he could - have sex with them.

* * *

Derek's kind of quiet after that, but not in the way he has been up to now. Before, he was being distant, shutting Stiles out; now, it's like he's closed in on himself, and Stiles has no idea how to reach him.

But then Derek surprises the both of them.

Derek honestly didn't know he was going to do this, so he's probably more surprised than Stiles is when, after dinner one night while they're watching a movie, he asks, "What was it like? The, uh, sex I mean." 

Stiles looks at him, and laughs. "Where did that come from?"

Derek's ears go hot, and he shrugs. "I'm just curious."

Stiles' expression becomes quizzical. "But you hate talking about sex."

Derek shrugs again. "I'm curious," he repeats - and he is, but he's not exactly curious about the sex part.

Stiles sighs. "Okay," he says slowly. "Well, what do you want to know?"

"What's it like?" Derek asks. "I mean people are always saying it's amazing, but..." But Derek's history with sex has been... bad, to say the least.

"Well," Stiles says carefully, "it kinda is, for sexual people. I mean, it feels really good, obviously, and it's really nice to be close to someone you care about, someone you're attracted to - to express how you feel about them in a physical way."

Derek's going to have to be careful here, for more than one reason. "Oh?" he asks, prodding just a little and ignore the slight tensing of his stomach. 

"Yeah," Stiles says. "I mean, casual sex is pretty great too, but sex with someone you're actually with, the intimacy of it? Way better, in my opinion." He glances at Derek. "Of course, orgasms are always fantastic, no matter where they come from. My hand can do just as well as anyone else, physically."

Unfortunately, Stiles's subtlety is lost on Derek, who's currently panicking internally and trying to hide it. _Shit,_ he thinks, _they're right. He does miss it._ "Oh," he manages to get out past the rolling in his stomach. "So you uh, enjoyed it? A lot?" 

"I guess," Stiles says, watching Derek carefully. "But like I said, it's nothing I can't do for myself. Every relationship is different."

"Yeah," Derek agrees, but his tone is thoughtful and his expression distant. 

"Derek," Stiles says, laying a hand on his arm. "Different doesn't mean bad. It just means different."

"I know," Derek says, but what he doesn't say is that sometimes, the 'different' is bad. 

* * *

It takes another few days for Derek to come up with a plan. It's not a plan he's particularly happy about executing, but if it'll make Stiles happy, then Derek supposes he can suck it up for once.

Not like he hasn't been an inactive participant in sex before.

So, Derek makes some reservations at the fancy restaurant that Stiles likes but they hardly ever go to for the night of their anniversary, and he makes a purchase at the store that he hasn't made since he was a teenager. He makes sure to get the night and next day off, and sets the reservations for Friday night. He has to pull in a few favors, but hey, at least if everything else goes to shit, they can have a good dinner.

And they do have a good dinner. It’s a perfect way to celebrate their anniversary, and Stiles hopes that it will mark the end of whatever weird tension has been building between him and Derek for the last few months. Derek seems tense at first, but he relaxes as the evening progresses, and they honestly have a great time.

Derek tenses up again almost as soon as they get home, though. Stiles sighs and reaches for Derek's hand. "You wanna watch a movie or something?"

Derek takes Stiles's hand, squeezing lightly to reassure himself. "Maybe a bath?" he suggests. 

Stiles smiles. "That sounds perfect. I bet a bath is just what you need."

Derek smiles, leaning in for a kiss. "Go get it started?" he asks. "I'll be in in a moment."

"Sure." Stiles takes a moment to reach up and touch Derek's face before moving into the bathroom.

Derek smiles, watching Stiles go before he detours into their bedroom, digging out the bottle of lube he'd purchased the other day and hidden in his underwear drawer, setting it on the bedside table. He takes a deep breath, then leaves the bedroom before he can think any more about what he's going to do. He follows the sound of running water into the bathroom, and leans against the doorjamb. "Water heater cooperating?" he asks; they've been having issues with the heater being temperamental lately.

"Yep," Stiles says, straightening up to give Derek a smile. "It's just right. You wanna get in?"

"Nah," Derek says. "I know I've been weird lately, and I want to make it up to you tonight." 

Stiles looks surprised, but his smile doesn't fade. "Well, okay," he says. "You're gonna stay with me, though, right?"

"Of course," Derek says with a smile. 

Stiles strips down and sighs when he sinks into the hot water, all the tension in his body just seeping away. He lies back and closes his eyes, a hand reaching over the side, searching for Derek's, and he smiles when Derek takes it. "We really need a bigger bath," he says.

Derek chuckles. "Well, if we ever remodel, that'll be the first thing we do," he promises. 

"Would you get in it with me?" Stiles asks. "I'd like that."

"If we had a bigger tub, then I'd definitely get in with you," Derek says easily, bringing Stiles's hand up so he can brush a kiss against his partner's knuckles. 

Stiles hums, his eyes still closed. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Derek says, voice quiet. He and Stiles lapse into a comfortable silence, only broken several minutes later when Derek squeezes Stiles's hand and says, "I have a surprise for you; give me a couple of minutes to get it ready, okay?" 

Stiles huffs a laugh and opens his eyes to grin up at Derek. "Okay," he says. "Sounds exciting. Just give a me a shout when you're ready."

Derek nods, then leaves; it's gonna take every bit of time he can get to get himself ready. 

* * *

It's nearly ten minutes before Derek gives Stiles the all-clear, and he waits anxiously on the bed as he hears the tub being drained and Stiles moving around. When Stiles pushes their bedroom door open the rest of the way, Derek offers him a smile that doesn't feel quite right. "Surprise?" 

Stiles falters in the doorway, his jaw dropping. The scene before him is like something out of a movie: low lighting; candles; a beautiful, naked man spread out on the bed, half-hard and waiting. Except that it is all wrong. "Derek, what is this?" Stiles whispers, his stomach twisting.

"I thought we could, you know, have sex," Derek says with a shrug. "I know you haven't had sex since we got together, and I thought, since you'd never cheat - " 

"Derek," Stiles interrupts sharply, his hand tightening on the towel around his waist. As soon as Derek said the word 'sex', the semi he's been sporting started to flag right before Stiles' eyes. He feels sick. "What. is. this?"

The rest of Derek deflates at Stiles's tone. "You miss sex," he says, legs drawing together as he fiddles with the sheet beneath him, not meeting Stiles's gaze. "I wanted to give that to you." 

Stiles sighs. "Come here," he says, loosening his towel as he approaches the bed so that he can throw it over Derek's lower half. Once done, he pulls on a pair of sweatpants and takes a seat at the end of the bed. "I don't miss sex, Derek. And even if I did, that doesn't mean you have to give it to me."

"Scott and Erica said - " Derek starts, and then instantly shuts his mouth; he should not have said that. 

Stiles' face darkens. "Scott and Erica said _what,_ exactly?"

Derek swallows, hard, then admits, "They thought I... wasn't being fair to you. Considering how much you liked sex, and how long we've been together." 

"Are you shitting me right now?" Stiles twists on the bed and tucks his feet up beneath him so he can face Derek. "It's nothing to do with them; we've talked about this. Only I get to decide what's fair to me, and not doing something you don't want to do _is_ fair." He sighs again. "Is this what the other night was about, when you asked me what sex was like?"

"... Maybe," Derek says, a bit guilty. 

Stiles fists his hands into the fabric of his sweatpants. "Derek, do _you_ want to have sex?"

"Not particularly," Derek admits, glancing up at Stiles and then away.

"Then we're not having sex," Stiles says, "because if you don't want to, _I_ don't want to. Hey." He puts his hand on Derek's leg, over the towel, and waits until Derek looks at him. "Do you understand? I know that's not how it worked in your past, but that's how it works now. I love you. I'm never going to force you."

Derek can't hold Stiles's gaze for long, and he soon returns to staring a hole in the bedsheet. "Erica kept saying that she did things that she didn't really care for because Boyd liked them, and even Lydia brought up the things she used to do for Jackson," he says quietly, somehow managing to get the words past the lump in his throat. "Scott just kept going on and on about how much you loved sex, and how it wasn't fair that you had to give up something you loved so much."

Stiles swallows down the rage that's beginning to bubble in his chest, and tries again. "Yeah, okay," he says, "I did love sex. I was a horny teenager who couldn't wait to lose his V card, and when I finally did, I thought sex was the best thing since sliced bread. But it isn't. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and you give me so much more than sex. You don't _owe_ me anything, and you definitely don't have to put up with anything you can't _stomach_ just because you think it'll make me happy. It won't. Do you believe me?"

Derek doesn't answer at first, but eventually he manages to nod. "Yeah," he says quietly. "I do." 

Stiles squeezes Derek's leg. "You and me, we're the only people who can speak with any authority about our relationship. Not our so-called friends, who apparently don't understand the first thing about us."

Derek reaches out to take Stiles's hand in his, needing the contact. "I just - when I asked, you sounded like you missed it - that you wanted to have sex with me. And you're not Kate, or Jennifer, so I thought, maybe - " 

"No," Stiles interrupts. "No, Derek, I'm so sorry if I made you feel that way. Yeah, I look back on my sexual relationships and I remember them fondly, but I don't miss it. We're close in other ways, we find other ways to be intimate and to make each other feel good. It doesn't all have to be about sex." He takes a deep breath. "If you ever want to have sex, if you ever want to test those waters again in any way, we'll talk about it. But I entered into this relationship under the impression that that day would never come, and that's fine with me."

Derek's eyes are watering by the time Stiles finishes speaking, and all he can do is ask, "You're sure?"

"I was sure then, and I'm just as sure now," Stiles promises. "If that hasn't changed in seven years, it never will."

Derek lets himself fall forward into Stiles's arms, his eyes screwed shut. "I've been worried for weeks," he confesses, voice thick. 

"I know," Stiles whispers, his voice breaking along with his heart. "I knew something was eating you, I just-- I was trying to give you space, let you come to me when you were ready. If I'd known it was going to come to this--"

Derek shakes his head. "I was trying to keep you from worrying," he says. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Stiles lets out a shaky breath and hugs Derek tighter. "I'm still sorry you had to go through this by yourself - and that our friends are such jerks. I'm going to kill them."

That gets a slight, hiccuping laugh. "Please don't actually kill them," Derek says. "Maybe some verbal evisceration."

"Anything for you," Stiles murmurs, stroking a soothing hand down Derek's back.

Derek sighs, and for the first time in weeks, the knot behind his stomach loosens. "I'm sorry for being stupid about this."

"You weren't," Stiles promises him. But, he thinks coldly, there are a few other people who are.

That Sunday, Stiles arranges for Erica and Scott come over while Derek is at work. He also sets up a Skype call with Lydia at the same time, and when he's got everyone present and attentive, he fixes them all with a hard look. "Okay," he beings. "Who wants to tell me what you've all been saying to Derek the last few weeks?"

Erica, Scott, and Lydia all share a look, and Lydia's the first to speak. "We mentioned how we all put up with things that we may not particularly like when it comes to sex because our partners liked it," she says. 

"And you implied that Derek should put up with sex in general, just because I like it?" Stiles asks tersely.

Erica shrugs. "Well, yeah."

Stiles explodes. "What part of _asexual_ do you not understand?!"

"There are plenty of asexual people who still have sex," Scott points out. "Asexual just means they don't have a particularly strong sex drive, right?" 

"No!" Stiles cries. "It means that you _don't feel sexual attraction_. And while yes, a lot of asexual people do have sex, in Derek's case, it means he's also repulsed by sex. Lydia!" Stiles rounds on the slightly grainy image on his laptop. "Surely _you_ are smart enough to understand that!"

Lydia, who'd paled a bit when Stiles had brought up how Derek feels about sex, nods. "I had no idea he was actually sex-repulsed," she murmurs, guilt writ clearly on her expression. 

"I don't understand," Erica says, her brow furrowed. "He said he didn't like it, but I just thought, y'know, we all do things we don't like for the people we love. We just have to suck it up."

"Well because you told him to suck it up," Stiles spits, "I had to walk in on the man that _I_ love preparing to force himself to have sex with me on Friday night. Sex that I don't even want! Consent is sexy, Erica!"

"But he's had sex before, right?" Scott asks, confused. "I mean, he was with Allison's aunt at one point; she used to brag about it to Allison all the time." 

"Oh my god," Stiles groans, letting his mouth run away from him. "He was raped!"

The room goes perfectly silent then, only broken by Lydia's horrified, "What?" 

Stiles deflates, runs a hand through his hair. He doesn't think Derek has ever talked to anyone but Stiles about this in any detail, but he can't exactly go back now, and if it means that their friends finally understand what they've done... "Derek's only had sex with two people," he says. "Allison's aunt Kate, when he was a teenager, and Jennifer Blake. They both forced him."

Erica's expression, if possible, goes even more guilty. "That's why he looked like he was going to be sick," she says, horrified with herself. 

"No shit, Sherlock," Stiles snaps. "You guys guilted him into putting himself in that position again. You should have seen him; he went all out, he tried _so hard_ to do what you all said would make me happy, and he was a wreck. If I'd been as stupid as all of you, he would have been raped a third time that night."

Stiles's words are met with a guilty silence. Scott is the first one to speak. "Stiles, we had no idea - " 

"I don't care," Stiles says, his voice cold and hard. "You shouldn't need the horrific context to know that it's a bad idea to pressure someone into doing something they don't want to do. Not to mention the fact that my relationship with Derek has absolutely nothing to do with anyone but _us_. You crossed a line, all of you. Derek is your friend, and he trusted you, and you betrayed that."

And, well, there's nothing any of them can say to that; Stiles is right, and they all know it. "We're sorry," Erica says after several long moments. 

"Try telling that to Derek," Stiles says tiredly, "and when I say that, I mean _grovel_. It's not gonna be easy to come back from this, guys."

Erica, Lydia, and Scott all nod understandingly.

* * *

Derek corners Stiles in the kitchen a couple of days later, a bit worried. "Why are Scott, Erica, and Lydia all so desperate to apologize to me? Scott _baked_. And Lydia convinced your dad to drop my last parking ticket. And Erica nearly cried."

"Well, you did mention verbal evisceration," Stiles says lightly, not looking up from the plate he's drying. "They only got what was coming to them."

"Well, yeah, but you've verbally eviscerated them before and they've never acted like this," Derek points out. "They were desperate."

Stiles sighs and puts the plate down. "I may have found a way to really hammer home their mistake."

"Stiles..."

"I didn't mean to," Stiles says, turning to face Derek. "It just slipped out; I swear to God I would never betray your trust like that on purpose. But, I told them about Kate and Jennifer, that they raped you.”

"You _what?_ " Derek demands, shocked. "Stiles, how did that even come up?"

"They were trying to tell me that you'd had sex before, so there was no reason why you couldn't have it again with me, and it just-- I just-- I snapped," Stiles says, looking desperate. "Derek, I'm so sorry. They'll never mention it, I promise."

Derek shakes his head. "Okay, the Jennifer thing is fair - but Kate didn't rape me," he says; he's can't be too upset with Stiles for letting this slip, because he knows that Stiles would never had said anything on purpose.

Stiles blinks. "Of course she did, Derek."

"No, she didn't," Derek argues. "Jennifer managed to bully me into taking those drugs, but Kate didn't do anything like that. The sex wasn't great, but she didn't _rape_ me."

"Did you want to do it?" Stiles asks.

Derek shrugs. "I was eighteen, she was hot, and I hadn't had sex before."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning I wanted to know what sex was like, I wasn't exactly sex-repulsed yet, and maybe Kate was a bit pushy, but that doesn't mean she forced me into anything."

Stiles crosses his arms over his chest. "That's not what you said the last time we talked about this."

Derek huffs. "Whatever, Stiles," he says, crossing his own arms. "So Kate pushed me into sex; I said yes in the end."

"She didn't give you a choice, Derek, you've said it yourself," Stiles says. He hesitates, and then adds, "You do know that just because your body... reacted, that doesn't mean you gave your consent?"

"I'm not stupid," Derek says defensively. “I know that.”

"I don't think you're stupid," Stiles says soothingly. "I just... You were young, and you weren't comfortable with what was happening, and she pressured you into letting her do what she wanted. You don't have to call it rape if you don't want to, but she definitely took advantage of you."

Derek sighs. "Okay," he says, letting his arms fall. "I'm sorry for snapping. I could have gone without anyone else knowing what happened, but that's done now, and I don't blame you for it slipping. But I don't want to argue about this anymore."

"I wasn't arguing," Stiles says softly, searching Derek's face. "I'm sorry. I never want you to feel pressured or forced into anything." He stays long enough to put the dry plate back in the cupboard, and then he leaves the room.

Derek watches Stiles go, then scrubs a hand over his face and curses under his breath; he knows better than to follow right away, though, so he doesn't. He waits until that night when they're getting ready to climb into bed before he brings it up again. "I know you don't want me to feel pressured into anything," he says while they're undressing. "And I appreciate that more than I can say. And - you're right. What Kate did - that was more than just taking advantage." 

Stiles shoots him a sardonic look. "I didn't walk out because I wanted you to tell me I was right," he says. "I just-- I worry about you. And I forget sometimes that forcing my point isn't always a good idea."

"If I thought that was what you wanted, I wouldn't have brought it up," Derek shoots back, but he's smiling, just a little. "And I appreciate your concern. I understand where you're coming from, and it's okay." 

Stiles sighs and climbs onto the bed, opening his arms for Derek to join him. "I could kill both Kate and Jennifer for what they did to you," he admits. "I don't like that you feel responsible for any of it."

Derek takes the invitation, laying down so he can rest his head against Stiles's shoulder. "I don't feel... responsible, per se," he says thoughtfully. "I know what Jennifer did was rape, plain and simple, but Kate... that's not so clear cut, you know?" 

"I know," Stiles says, running his fingers through Derek's hair. "The way I see it? You were a child, and you weren't old enough to know what you wanted. 'Asexual' probably wasn't even a word you'd heard back then. And Kate was older and manipulative and she used you. But obviously I wasn't there, and it's not a judgement I can make for you."

"Yeah," Derek sighs, leaning into Stiles's touch. "Eighteen isn't exactly a child, but I get what you're saying." 

"I'm sorry if talking about this tonight has upset you," Stiles murmurs. "And I am really sorry that I told the others."

"I'm not excusing that - and I'd really appreciate it if it didn't happen again - but I understand why it slipped," Derek says, wrapping his arms around Stiles's middle. "I just hope that they aren't going to keep being weird around me."

"They won't," Stiles promises. "They're not being weird because of what happened to you; they're being weird because of how guilty they feel. And they should feel guilty, Derek."

Derek sighs. "Yeah, they should," he admits; Stiles is right about this, Derek knows. The way that their friends had acted over the past several weeks was beyond disrespectful.

"It's okay if you need to take some time," Stiles offers. "No one expects you to forgive them right away."

"I know," Derek says, "And I think I'll make them grovel a bit more."

Stiles laughs and presses a kiss to the top of Derek's head. "You do that."

* * *

It takes Derek a solid two weeks to forgive their friends, and it takes Stiles a little longer. When it finally happens and things start to return to normal, though, everyone gets invited to their place for Sunday dinner and some movies. It's a somewhat subdued affair, but it does the trick: everyone is smiling and laughing by the time they leave, and while they all apologise to Derek one last time, their indiscretion isn't mentioned even once more.

When their house is empty again and most of the mess has been piled into the kitchen to be dealt with tomorrow, Stiles pulls Derek down onto the couch with him and throws on a late-night movie. They tune in a little under halfway through, just in time to see the lead setting up a romantic dinner for two that is bound to end in disaster, and Stiles huffs a laugh and noses at Derek's cheek. "Is it too soon to say that that looks awfully familiar?"

Derek groans. "Just a little," he laughs. 

Stiles smiles and turns his attention back to the TV, where the lead is now very carefully setting a small black box in the centre of the table. "Y'know," he says lightly. "I kinda thought you were going to propose that night."

Derek hums. "That honestly hasn't occurred to me," he admits. 

Stiles barks out a laugh. "Oh," he says, his gaze pointedly fixed on the TV. "I guess it's a good thing I totally don't have a ring hidden in my sock drawer, then."

Derek sits up straight then, looking at Stiles with wide eyes. "What?" 

Stiles sits up too, and uses the movement to put some space between him and Derek. "What?" he asks, defensive. "I said I _don't_."

"Stiles," Derek says gently. "Do you have a ring hidden somewhere in this house?" 

"Ask me again tomorrow," Stiles suggests.

Derek raises an eyebrow, amused. "Tomorrow?" 

"You know what?" Stiles asks, starting to rise. "I am wiped. I think I'm just gonna turn in!"

Derek reaches out to snag Stiles's wrist, his grip gentle yet firm. "Stiles," he says, tugging lightly on his partner's wrist to encourage him back to the couch. "If you did have a ring hidden somewhere in the house, and you were planning to use it, I'd accept it." 

Stiles gapes at him like a fish. "But you just said--"

"Just because it hasn't occurred to me to actually propose doesn't mean I haven't thought about marrying you," Derek says, smiling. "I love you, and after seven years, you're stuck with me, marriage or no." 

Stiles' expression softens into a tender smile. "Yeah?" he asks. "You wanna marry me?"

"Yeah," Derek says, expression just as fond. "I do." 

Stiles grins. "Then let's do it," he says. "I love you."

Derek laughs. "Let's get married," he agrees. 

Stiles sighs and pulls Derek in for a kiss. "I'll find that ring later."


End file.
